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I glance down at the fallen arrow. The bone white head is coated in a viscous substance reminding me of tar.
A dozen green figures burst from the bushes. Their skin camouflages with the leaves so perfectly I didn’t realize they were there. They are so short they barely reach my waist, and their heads are larger than their sinewy bodies. Their gnarled fingers clutch maces and axes and daggers made from black wood and sharpened bone. I don’t want to know whether those ivory blades were carved from beasts or people. A dozen pairs of yellow eyes fix on me and narrow into cat-like slits. They all grin at me, revealing rows of pointed teeth.
Though I’ve never met a goblin, I’ve seen plenty of sketches during my time at the Arcanium. They didn’t look particularly friendly in those books, but the illustrations failed to depict exactly how horrifying these creatures are. From my studies, I recall they dwell in caves—meaning they’ve likely been following us since we entered the crags and were waiting for the opportune moment. And the most important fact of all is that their favorite delicacy is unaware travelers.
They may have caught me by surprise, but this is the only blood they’ll draw from me. I have no intention of being the centerpiece of their banquet tonight.
The horde of goblins is almost upon me now, their ivory weapons swinging dangerously close. Another barrage of bone arrows launches from the bushes. I dread to think how many of these creatures there are.
“Laxus!”
Before they can reach me, I disappear into violet light. Their weapons strike air.
I reappear several paces away, in front of Zephyr. “Stay behind me,” I say to him, and he does as I instruct, cowering behind the length of my indigo robes.
Natharius is also surrounded by goblins, far many more than me. His dark magic bats them away as if they were flies but whenever one falls, another springs from the trees to take its place. Even a Void Prince of the Abyss can’t defeat all these goblins in one strike. I’m on my own (unless Zephyr counts), but that’s fine. I won’t rely on him or anyone else any longer. If I can’t defeat a mere pack of goblins, how will I ever stand against Arluin and his necromancers and their legions of undead?
Aether radiates from my hands. “Conparios.”At my command, Father’s crystalline staff emerges from violet light, and I clasp it tightly. Through its touch, all the magic in my blood sings louder.
“Folmen!” Aether sparks into lightning and strikes the nearest goblin. Then it splits and bolts across to six more. The first goblin is struck by so much power he’s instantly killed, while the others are left momentarily stunned. The highly charged current causes their sparse strands of hair to stand up and frazzle.
But my spell only succeeds at dazing half my attackers. The rest continue toward me at full speed. My retaliation has only made them fiercer. Hungrier.
“Gelu’vinclair!”
Frost bursts from my fingers and spreads across the dirt track. Ice spirals up to their knobby knees, shackling them to the ground. They writhe against their frozen bindings, swinging their bone weapons manically. But my frost only holds them tighter. They are at my mercy.
And I intend to show them none.
I raise Father’s staff, preparing to cast a spell devastating enough to destroy them all in one strike. But before I can finish it, another round of arrows rushes from the trees.
I alter the spell, redirecting my aether and transferring it into earth magic. Emerald light glows in my palm, and I send it forth. “Terra!”
A wall of stone erupts from the earth. Only one arrow is fast enough to make it past, and it lands several paces away from me. The earthen wall continues upward until it reaches the tree tops. Even if the goblin archers try to shoot over it, they will be completely blind.
Ice cracks. I glance back at the goblins caught in my frozen snare. One has freed his leg. He kicks at the frost around his other, and icy shards flake off. Seeing his progress, the rest of the goblins are spurred on. They too begin to break through the ice.
Soon they’ll all be free. I must strike now while I have the upper hand.
“Gelu’tempis!”I cry, flinging a giant ball of ice high into the air.
Before it reaches the treetops, the ice shatters and a thousand frozen needles rain on the goblins. They cover their enormous heads with their thin arms and double their efforts to free themselves. The shards of ice rip through their lumpy skin, and green blood spurts out. Some are struck by fatal wounds and slump over, their slack bodies held upright by the ice shackling their knees to the ground. They don’t twitch. The rest are covered in wounds, but otherwise look only enraged.
I prepare a second spell to take care of the survivors, but Zephyr growls behind me. I whirl around to see him spewing balls of aether at the two goblins behind us. The magic strikes them and leaves them briefly dazed.
If not for Zephyr, they’d have reached me before I realized. But I have no time to thank my faerie dragon. The goblins behind are breaking free from the ice and these two are returning to their senses.
I launch the first spell which comes to mind. Fire, of course. “Ignira!”
Since Father’s staff allows me to draw more aether than I naturally can, the resulting fireball is enormous. It erupts from my fingers and slams into the two goblins. They shriek but the flames devour them, and the smell of charred flesh wafts through the smoke. I don’t wait to watch their ashy remains emerge from the embers. Cracking sounds as the other goblins break from their icy chains. They charge at me, their weapons glinting in the dying sunlight filtering through the trees.
“Astrombis,” I call, unleashing the spell Natharius taught me. Last night, I was debating the point of learningastrombis. It seems I’ve now discovered the unique advantage it offers: a fast spell with a large enough radius to strike multiple enemies.
A ball of aether launches into the air and rains on the crowd of goblins like falling stars. The violet bolts strike them over and over, and many more goblins collapse. Only a few make it onto their feet.
A shadow looms over me. I glance left to see Natharius assuming his true demonic form. He’s tall enough that his obsidian horns skim the treetops. Branches snap as his draconic wings spread out. The crimson markings across the alabaster planes of his torso hum with raw power, and his eyes gleam with the same frightening magic. He strides forth, the ground breaking beneath his hooves. He raises a hand, and a dark iron sword appears from the shadows. The weapon is almost as tall as him.
The goblins are like ants beneath him—even I am. Natharius grins, revealing fangs, and his grin is far more terrifying than the one the goblins offered me.
